


PHD: Piled High and Deep

by ComeAsYouAre



Series: For Want of a Thesis [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8364220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComeAsYouAre/pseuds/ComeAsYouAre
Summary: A misanthropic academic is probably the last person you want trying to save the world, especially when that person would much rather get back home in time to defend her thesis.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Largely abandoned, but posting what does exist here in case I pick it up again.
> 
> Original request:
> 
> I would like to read about a modern person who ends up in Skyrim. How they got there is up to author anon. They can emerge as dragonborn or not. 
> 
> How would a real life Skyrim differ from the game?. I imagine everywhere you go bandits would not run out and attempt murder. That's more for leveling in game.I want to see Skyrim as a living breathing place.
> 
> How would a modern person adjust to no cars or restrooms? Also, what cultural differences would they encounter? What would happen when they activated a shrine? 
> 
> Do they run across werewolves? zombies? mages? If it's a woman how does she handle birth control?
> 
> Kinks: het, adventure, rough sex, non-cannon is ok  
> Dislikes: The usual
> 
> I will shelf fill this, but would love to see another anons take on this. Multi-fills, long fills, mini fill are all welcome and encouraged. 
> 
> If any anon would like to fill this for me I thank you.
> 
> Originally posted to:  
> http://skyrimkinkmeme.livejournal.com/4580.html?thread=9726180#t9726180

It was the cold that woke Meryl up, or maybe the rickety ride, or the throbbing in her skull... but whatever it was, it was wrong. All of it. She ought to be in bed right now- not in a cart in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of strange men dressed like a…

Hang on- What sicko put her in the horrible scratchy thing she was wearing?!

She looked around, panicking. _Who the hell would touch her in her sleep?!_ Oooooh, she was going to _kill_ someone when she got her hands on them…!

Speaking of which. Her hands were bound. _Ok,_ she thought, _this is bad._

She was so focused on her predicament that she nearly jumped out of her skin when the man across from her spoke.

“Hey, you! You’re finally awake!”

Meryl stared dumbly at him. The man continued talking at her, “You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right in to that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.”

The thief was less than happy. “Damn you, Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell.”

 _Who blabs about their crime without a lawyer?_ Meryl blinked in surprise. _Idiot._ But the thief turned to talk to her, which surprised her once again. “You there, we shouldn’t be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”

 _Stormcloaks?_ Meryl thought, _You mean these weirdos in crusty chainmail?_

“We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.” The first man retorted.

“Shut up back there!” _Well_ , Meryl noted, _the man driving the carriage was snippy…_

The order didn’t deter the thief one bit. “What’s wrong with him, huh?”

The first man to speak turned to the thief sharply, “Watch your tongue! You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!”

_What._

Did she end up on a movie set? This definitely wasn’t a Peter Jackson production. No pretty elf people anywhere. Not "Game of Thrones", either. The costumes were all wrong. Maybe an HBO offshoot?

The thief was making too much of a fuss for her to ignore. “...You’re the leader of the rebellion. But if they’ve captured you… Oh, gods! Where are they taking us?”

 _Ugh,_ overacting. Maybe not a very high-budget show. Or maybe they were just extras. That would make sense. She didn’t do acting. She’d never auditioned for anything _ever._ That was for outgoing people. People who had to _talk_ to people _all the time…_

She didn’t expect the man who snapped at the thief to try to comfort him. “A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home.” That was sweet, in a sentimental sort of way, she supposed. Or maybe this was a sociable person thing.

What wasn’t sweet, was the announcement of a “headsman”, whatever that was. It couldn’t have been good, because the thief started praying frantically. They had reached a small town or something, and the surprisingly nice guy across from her spat out his next lines. “Look at him, General Tullis the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this.”

Ok, definitely not Peter Jackson. He had an elf fixation or something, so he’d never allow a character who was “nice” say anything nasty about them. That sort og thing was saved for "bad" characters. So, not a baddie. Probably. And this guy had too many nice, context-setting lines to be minor a character. At least, not as far as standard narratives went.

“This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead, with Juniper berries mixed in. Funny. When I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.”

Meryl looked in alarm at the speaker. More context. Or rather, reminiscing and adding doom-laden context. In film or tv, that meant he was either a major character... or he was about to die. Frowning, she took a good look at the man across from her: he was broad in the shoulders and had dirty blonde hair. A big guy, but then, she was usually surrounded by big guys. Not that they were necessarily big. It just seemed that way, since she was so small. Maybe she should have been paying more attention: did he say what his name was? They only ever name the important characters...

The set looked pretty big, but then, she’d never been in a real set before. They had extras milling about, too. No cameras anywhere she could see, though. Maybe a dress rehearsal? Still, everything looked pretty good. Even if the costumes were tacky. And everyone was very serious. She should probably act serious, too. She didn't have any lines, did she? _UGH._ Acting was absolutely not her thing...

The carts came to a stop and everyone shuffled off. She barely registered the thief panicking some more, as she wracked her brain for how she ended up here. Maybe one of those stupid soft-drink movie promos had finally panned out. It’s not like she ever expected to win anything- the odds were stupidly low. But then how did she get here? No way she got here on her own. Maybe a tv prank show? That was more likely. Maybe her asshat friends had set her up just so they could laugh at her being awkward at those Renaissance Fairs she told them about. Or was this revenge by her Dungeons and Dragons group? Some sort of over-the-top role reversal, by sticking their Dungeon Master in rags? What could possibly be going on...

Meryl frowned as she thought, and almost missed the calling down the roster.  
“...Ralof of Riverwood…” So that was Mr Exposition’s name…

The melodramatic thief made a break for it, and only ended up getting shot down. He went down on his face shockingly hard, and Meryl balked at the sight. _Don’t they teach their extras how to fall safely?_

She jumped a little when the man with the list called her.

“Wait. You there, step forward.”

Not knowing what else to do, she did as she was told. The man then stumped her with his next question: “Who are you?”

Meryl blanked. Ok, so maybe she _did_ have lines. If this was a prank, she’d be laughed at no matter what she said. She’d be laughed at if she said nothing. If this was a serious production, they might be annoyed, but they could leave her part on the cutting room floor. But then they’d never let her talk to the crew, or anywhere near the production, ever again. She looked at the woman standing next to the registrar man, and she looked _angry._ She didn’t look that fierce though, what with that tacky gladiator outfit. 

Meryl's heart rate picked up. No matter what she did, she was screwing this up. And there weren’t any cues for what to do. Curse it! It wasn't her fault if she screwed this up- no had told her what on Earth was going on!

The man with the papers saved her. “You from Daggerfall, Breton? Fleeing from some court intrigue?”

 _Note to self: Breton from Daggerfall. Court intrigue._ She needed to read up on her lines and her lore, by _yesterday._

Wait. Reading. 

Meryl tensed up. _Oh, no… My **thesis** …!!!_ She had till the end of the summer to get ready for her defense, and what was she doing? Not studying, not writing, not debugging, or even sleeping. She was faffing about on some sort of horribly haphazard reenactment or something. She didn’t have time for this! She needed to get home, and soon!

Her panic must have been all over her face, for the man told her sadly. “I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to High Rock.” _I am so sorry I didn't know my lines!_ Meryl thought desperately. Thank goodness the _real_ actor knew what to do when his partner sucked. Still, irresponsible use of time or not, wasting everyone's time like this was just _rude._

 _Note to self: Find the High Rock connection._ Maybe that was her key home, too.

She followed the angry gladiator lady to the gathering nearby, and anxiously watched the general that Ralof had mentioned earlier deliver some lines about doom and murder and starting a war. Very dramatic stuff. Maybe that Ralof guy was wrong about the gagged man. It happens. War is messy. That’s why she studied, and only played games about such things.

Meryl sighed. She may as well get into the swing of things. Hopefully someone would call for an end to the scene, and then she could find a tech or someone, _anyone_ to tell her what was going on. Maybe let her get her normal clothes, because the sackcloth shirt-thing was terribly itchy. Most importantly, someone could tell her how to get home. She had no idea where she was, and maybe this "High Rock" place had a bus, or a train, or something…

An inhuman cry filled the air.

“What was that?” Someone exclaimed.

 _Well, it can’t have been all that serious if everyone ignores it._ Meryl thought sarcastically, _Everyone knows that when everyone ignores a freaky event like that, that it only leads to disaster._ Apparently this scene was a setup for the big baddie or something. Maybe they were all just extras, and this was the hero’s hometown or something. If the bad guys razed it to the ground, he’d have all the reason in the world to go on some massively trope-infested quest to exact revenge and save the world. Or maybe the hero was here, and she’d already met him! Oh, _that_ would be an exciting start to a series!

She looked around anxiously, weighing the options. No word from gag-dude, so maybe yes, maybe no. They said he was important or something, but not as far as she could tell. Ralof maybe? He seemed nice. And he had a girlfriend here, once. It wouldn’t be that big a stretch, story-wise. Definitely not the thief. He was playing dead, and probably was nursing a broken nose off-camera. Old gladiator general? Too boring. Angry gladiator lady? A possibility. She was a bit uptight though, so maybe it would follow the “defrosting of the ice queen” plotline, or something. The list-guy who saved her from forgetting her lines? Nah. Peon.

The man to her right startled her by yelling at some robed lady. He went up to the block where the executioner stood waiting. “Come on!” He dared them, “I haven’t got all morning!”

Meryl tried not to snicker. The man had a dark sense of humour. Or maybe his character was just ornery like that. She’d have to ask the guy about his character, later…

The axe came down on the man, cleanly separating his head from his body.

_Slobbering Sith-spit! They actually killed him!_

There was _no way_ that could have been faked _that_ well. There was no way these guys were that good. On an unrelated side-note, there was a reason she’d sworn off being a doctor; after volunteering at her local hospital, she’d found a very pronounced dislike of some of the things that you have to put up with in the profession. Namely, the blood and gore. Sure, she could deal with some fairly serious injuries, but there were limits! And nobody talks about the _smell…_

Meryl felt sick. Stunned beyond words. _What the hell is going on?!_


End file.
